


Revenge (Why Does it Hurt so Badly?)

by myglassesaredirty



Series: Parenting is Hard [6]
Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, JUST, Murder, Out of Character, Revenge, episode: s0701 Santabarbaratown 2, he really was planning on it, idk what his plan was if he got arrested bc he definitely should have, just a bit, let's be real, like a flame, listen we all know shawn probably won't murder anyone but i mean guys, okay but 7x01 shawn is badass and badass shawn is fucking hot, sizzle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Jerry Carp shot Shawn's father. All Shawn sees is red.Now, whether that red is his father's blood, his rage, or Jerry's blood, he can't tell.





	Revenge (Why Does it Hurt so Badly?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RobinsonsWereHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/gifts).



> I wrote this many moons ago (back when I posted the ice skating fic), and it just like. Emotionally drained me. I love it.

When he was still seventeen, his parents got divorced. Shawn had known it was coming, had even witnessed their separation in the same year, but still, he had expected them to reconcile. When they didn’t, all he could see was red. He blamed his father for everything. He shouted, screamed, yelled, broke things, and nearly ripped the pictures in the scrapbooks.

 

But he wasn’t that cruel. He remembered that there was a time, once, when his father actually loved him and his mom, but something happened once Shawn got into high school. Somehow, he knew in the back of his mind that his father still loved him, and to rip apart those pictures would destroy him.

 

So, instead of ripping up those pictures, Shawn pushed his father to the limit. Henry arrested him. Shawn pushed harder. He bought a motorcycle as soon as he turned 18, knowing there was nothing his father could do to take it away from him. His father yelled at him for a lot of stuff that night, mostly about his lack of responsibility, but he headed up to his room after his voice turned hoarse from screaming. And after another few months finishing out high school so that Gus would still have a friend, Shawn packed his backpack with some clothes, a wad of cash he kept stuffed in a sock, and tore away from his childhood home, leaving his father a note so that he wouldn’t worry.

 

Shawn never thought he could ever reach that same level of pure  _ rage _ again in his life, but as soon as he saw Jerry Carp point a gun at his dad and shoot, he knew he was wrong. This is beyond rage. This is beyond fury. It isn’t even  _ wrath _ or any other form of righteous anger. It is pure, unadulterated murderous rage.

 

As he creeps through Carp’s hideout, he doesn’t care if anyone gets hurt. Hell, he doesn’t care if he himself gets hurt. All he wants to do is shoot Jerry Carp. Hopefully kill him. He hasn’t decided if he’ll aim for the brains or the chest yet, but he likes the thought of Jerry coming full circle: he points a gun at Henry’s chest, pulls the trigger, gets away with it, only for Shawn to show up, point the gun at Jerry’s chest, pull the trigger, and get away with it.

 

God, he relishes in the anticipation of squeezing that trigger and watching as Carp’s body convulses with each shot. Hell, maybe Shawn will draw it out. Maybe he won’t kill him immediately.

 

Wait.

 

Does that fall under police brutality? He’s not technically a police officer. He’s technically a private investigator, and his dad always hated PIs because they always used unnecessarily cruel ways to attain information. According to his father, they skirted around the laws and brought down bad guys while not being good guys themselves. His dad held them to a lower level than even bounty hunters because at least bounty hunters didn’t always coerce information, and at least they brought the perps back to the police station.

 

Right. So, technically, Shawn’s just doing his job as a PI. Since he’s not a cop, he can’t get arrested for  _ police _ brutality.

 

He knows he has about forty-five seconds before they turn the lights back on, so he follows the hallway, his gun held out in front of him. His eyes have adjusted to the dark since he set the bullets off in the kitchen, and in the room in front of him, he can hear heavy breathing.

 

_ I’ve got you now, you sick son of a bitch. _ Shawn grins and tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants.  _ And I’m gonna have one hell of a time taking you to prison. Or sending you to hell. I’m still debating. _ He sneaks into the room.

 

The lights switch back on, and Shawn wants to sneer at the sight of the scrawny little man who shot his father. He’s a coward. Jerry Carp is a fucking coward who has always been a dirty cop. There’s the 50 grand he got from the Blue Derby business, but there’s so much more money that Shawn wants to know about. Who else did he kill? What other laws did he break?

 

“Evening, Jerry.” His voice is cold.

 

Jerry Carp turns around, his hand brushing against the box of semi-automatic weapons that are headed for another war-torn country. He shrinks into himself, as if he  _ actually _ thinks that Shawn will take pity on him just because he’s turtling. “Shawn Spencer,” he says, backing up a little bit, hunching his shoulders. It won’t work. He’s trying to show weakness, and sure, Shawn knows that he’s a fucking coward, but he’s not going to let that slide. “I had a feeling you were coming.” Jerry takes a deep breath and almost bows. “I, uh, applaud you for your bravery.”

 

Bravery? Is that what Jerry thinks this is all about? This is plain, old-fashioned revenge.  _ Bravery _ has nothing to do with it. The fact that his father is lying in a hospital bed with a tube sticking down his throat has  _ everything _ to do with it. The fact that Shawn had to watch his father get shot, had to hold his hand in the ambulance, had to watch the paramedics work quickly, had to watch them do CPR to revive his dad _ …that _ has everything to do with it.

 

Normally, with any other criminal, Shawn would respond with some sort of quip or scream and run away, waiting for Lassie and Jules, but this man doesn’t even deserve to get spit on. “I wish I could return that compliment.” There’s no emotion in his voice anymore. If he lets emotion in at this point, he’s going to pull his gun and shoot Carp at least seven times, and he’d face jail time for that. Maybe it’s worth it and maybe it’s not, but he should at least wait it out a little bit.

 

Jerry’s beady little eyes flick back and forth, almost looking for an escape.

 

“Come on,” Shawn says, his fingers itching to grab his gun, “you’re coming with me.”

 

Jerry laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “Oh, no.” He steps forward and reaches behind him. Shawn knows there’s a gun in the back of his pants. “Why would I want to do something like th–”

 

Shawn lifts his gun in one fluid move, pointing it straight at Jerry’s chest. “Because if you don’t, I will blow you away.” He nods towards the floor. “Now drop it.”

 

Jerry pulls his gun out of his waistband, leans forward, and drops it on the ground. He wipes his hands on his pants. Shawn knows he’s scared out of his damn mind.

 

_ Good, _ Shawn thinks as he cocks the gun.  _ Serves him right. Let  _ him _ know what it feels like to stare down the barrel of a gun. _

 

Jerry furrows his brow as soon as Shawn cocks the gun. “Hey, that’s my gun.”

 

Shawn smiles coldly. Even he can see the ice nearly shooting out of his eyes, and he knows that if Jules were here, she would say that his eyes were ice blue. They’ve almost never been that color, but now, Shawn wouldn’t hesitate to agree with her. “So you know it works,” he says quietly, his voice matching the same ice in his eyes. He jerks the gun towards the door. “Now move.” As soon as Carp is near enough to him, he grabs his arm and presses the gun to his back.

 

Jerry’s back stiffens, and he walks slowly. Now, it could be because he’s got something up his sleeve, but Shawn thinks it’s more because he knows he can’t outrun Shawn unless he already has a 7-yard head start. “Now, think about this, Shawn, I’ve got a loooooot of money.”

 

Shawn grits his teeth.  _ I can’t fucking believe I once looked up to you. I can’t believe my dad let you in our  _ house,  _ I can’t believe he once trusted you. _ His finger brushes over the trigger. “Trust me, Jerry, you’ll need every penny. Dirty cops are all the rage in Lompoc.”

 

He sees the shadow before he processes anything else. “That’ll be enough of that,” the British writer says, pressing a gun to Shawn’s neck.

 

Shawn licks his teeth and huffs out a humorless laugh. Of  _ course _ this bastard would place the gun on the one unprotected part of himself. He licks his lips and straightens his shoulders. “Julian.” He chuckles bitterly. “I’ll be damned. This is the second Mexican stand-off I’ve been a part of today.” His hand clenches around his gun. God, he just wants to blow Jerry into kingdom come.

 

“I’m not sure you know the proper meaning of that term.  _ Drop it.” _

 

Shawn grits his teeth, but when Julian digs the gun into the back of Shawn’s neck, he lets his arm fall. It takes him a moment, but he does, and he hates them all the more for it. He wants to shoot Vest, he wants to shoot Julian, and as a sweet, sweet victory, he wants to shoot Carp.

 

Carp’s face is scared, but he turns around, now smug that he’s not in any real danger at the moment.

 

Julian rips the gun from Shawn’s grip, and Shawn glares icily at Carp.  _ It’s all your damn fault, _ he thinks.  _ You shot my dad. I wouldn’t have done any of this if you hadn’t shot my dad. _

 

“Now, you’ve been making things very difficult for me lately. I’m a very busy man.”

 

Shawn quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, I know. You’ve got donors to defraud, wars to worsen, and…” he grits his teeth, trying to imagine another evil thing that Julian does, but he knows of nothing else, so he just goes with the first thing that pops into his mind,  _ “…kittens _ to drown.” He shakes his head slightly. It was weak, but it’ll do. “All while moving your operations to, uh…” he moves his eyes away from Jerry, not able to look into the beady little snake eyes any longer. He squints at one of the shipping boxes. A location jumps out at him, but he can’t make sense of the first abbreviation. “Angola.” He moves his eyes back to Carp’s.

 

The gun pressing into Shawn’s skin shifts a little, and the pressure on his neck is lighter. “Yes,” Julian says in his weak, British-writer-who-can’t-do-shit voice. “I’ve found their government to be a bit friendlier to people in my line of work.”

 

Shawn’s mind runs a hundred miles an hour, and he already has his plan for what to do next. He knows that, if he takes down Julian, Carp will go for the gun, but his dad taught him literally everything he’d need to know. He knows how to get a gun away from a criminal, even one twice his size.

 

(Or, in the case of when his dad taught him how to do this, a criminal three times his size. Shawn was twelve when he learned to grab the criminal’s wrist, point the gun upwards, and twist the gun out of the criminal’s hand. His dad had plenty of broken fingers, but he always insisted it was worth it to know that Shawn knew what to do in case someone was ever pointing a gun at him.)

 

“Yeah, well, unless you’re leaving in the next hour, you’re still totally screwed.” Shawn just remembered that there’s an FBI guy on this case (the one who should technically be the lead detective, but  _ his _ dad wasn’t shot by one of these jackasses, now was he?). “I’m betting there’s a team of FBI agents heading here right now.”

 

Jerry’s smiling. No, scratch that, he’s  _ laughing. _ Why is he laughing? Who gave him the right to laugh?

 

“Oh, really? Did you…tip them off?” Julian asks, almost mockingly.

 

Shawn chalks it up to Jerry just being an ass. It’s not like it’s far-off. “No. But I know who did.” He’s grinning now, remembering finally that someone’s going to save him, and he’ll actually be able to take care of Carp.

 

The gun presses into Shawn’s neck again as he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet. “Does he look like that guy?”

 

Shawn bounces a bit more and looks around until he finds the window that Julian is referring to. The FBI agent with the Anthony Michael Hall-ish face sits outside on the balcony, bound to a chair.

 

_ Alright, that’s on me. I shouldn’t have put so much stock into such a scrawny guy. He was probably a desk agent or something. _

 

“I’m afraid the cavalry isn’t coming.”

 

Shawn looks down at the ground. Okay, he’s going to have to go back to Plan A…or is that Plan B? Or even C? Plan A was just to get Carp, which he’s pretty much done, Plan B was to kill Carp if remotely necessary, and Plan C was to disarm Julian. So, yeah, it’s Plan C. He’s back at Plan C.

 

Good. He didn’t like Plan D at all anyways.

 

Shawn nods. “You’re right.” He doesn’t particularly like Julian, but he’s not at the same level of scum that Jerry is. He can make time for a quip. Shawn’s insecurity seems to feed the smug fire in Jerry’s eyes, but Shawn shakes his head and looks back up at him. “I don’t know what a Mexican standoff is.” He grits his teeth and donkey-kicks Julian as hard as he can in the kneecap. Julian grunts, and Shawn immediately turns around, throwing his elbow into the side of Julian’s face. He’s thrown off-kilter by the effort, and Jerry takes advantage of it, pushing Shawn aside to grab the gun.

 

Shawn stumbles a little bit, but he whirls back around. When he does, Jerry has the gun pointed at his chest. “Hey!”

 

_ As long as he doesn’t aim above the vest, I’m good. I’ve just gotta wait for the moment when his defenses weaken. _

 

Jerry almost laughs. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”

 

Shawn furrows his brow, a bit insulted. “Really? The man’s a writer. From England.”

 

Jerry smiles, almost sadly, at Shawn. “You know, Shawn, I used to think you were different from your dad.”

 

Shawn clenches his jaw.  _ You don’t deserve to talk about him. Don’t even mention him. _ The blood rushes fast through his ears and into his hands. His fingers twitch, and he eyes the gun.

 

“But you’re not.” Jerry sounds tired. “You’re both stubborn, and you’re both  _ stupid, _ and you don’t know when to quit!”

 

Shawn takes a half step forward. Jerry doesn’t notice it. “I’ll quit,” Shawn says, “when you’re behind bars. Or dead, I honestly don’t have a preference at this point, Jerry.” He takes another half step forward. “And besides, I take it as a compliment that I’m like my father. He’s the best man I’ve ever known. It’s an honor to be like him.”

 

Jerry shakes his head, and his finger moves. “Goodbye, Shawn.”

 

Before he can do anything else, Shawn grabs his wrist, points the gun downward, and twists it away from Jerry’s grasp. Jerry screams in pain, but Shawn ignores that, grabbing Jerry by the arm and shoving him against the wall. His gun presses into Jerry’s chest, and his finger tightens over the trigger. “Is that what you said to him?” he seethes, his breath on Jerry’s ear. “Is that what you said to my dad  _ right before _ you shot him?”

 

Jerry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he lifts his hands in surrender. Shawn digs the gun deeper into his chest. “I- I didn’t want to hurt him.”

 

Shawn’s hand tightens around Jerry’s arm, and Carp whimpers. “You’re a fucking  _ coward, _ you know that, Carp? At least Atwater took the blame for his shitty decision. You didn’t. You  _ shot _ my  _ father. _ Now it’s my turn to shoot you.”

 

Jerry pants heavily. “But– but you’ll go to  _ jail, _ son.”

 

_ “Don’t,” _ Shawn pulls back the gun and whips it across Jerry’s face, pressing it back into his chest. Blood dribbles from Jerry’s lip. “You  _ dare _ call me son.” He moves his arm away from Jerry’s and presses his arm against Jerry’s throat. “Only my father can call me son. The father that  _ you _ sent to the hospital.”

 

Jerry looks weaker than he has this entire time. “But you’ll still go to jail.”

 

“I don’t give a fucking damn. You could have killed my father.”

 

“Well, it was his fault for sticking his nose in a place he didn’t belong!”

 

Shawn doesn’t even think. He pulls the trigger once, twice, three times. Jerry slouches over into his arms after the first shot, and his body keeps convulsing with each shot after that. Shawn steps away, whirls around on his feet, and shoots J.E. Vest once in the chest.

 

Footsteps speed up and run towards him. Shawn lifts his gun, prepared to shoot, but he sees a flash of blonde hair, and he immediately lowers his gun.

 

Juliet slows down immediately and gapes at Shawn. The chief comes up right behind her, holstering her gun, and her eyes stare at Shawn’s right hand.

 

Juliet covers her mouth with her hand. “Shawn…”

 

Shawn furrows his brow. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

Chief Vick takes a step forward, her hand hovering over the butt of the gun. Something made her decide that the area wasn’t safe even though Shawn already took out everyone. “Shawn, what just happened?”

 

_ Shawn? She never calls me Shawn. _ He jerks his head towards Carp, Julian, and Vest. “I came to find Carp – which is a good thing, Chief, because that FBI agent is literally tied up outside – and then Julian pointed a gun at me, so I knocked him out. I shot Jerry after he pointed a gun at me, and then I shot Vest before he could shoot me.”

 

Chief Vick’s steps are slow and steady, almost as if she’s approaching a deer that’s about to spook. “How many times did you shoot Carp, Shawn?” Her voice is softer than Shawn’s ever heard it.

 

Shawn looks between the two of them. “Three times. Why do you ask?”

 

“Were you right up next to him?”

 

Shawn nods. “Look, Chief, I disarmed him and then –”

 

“Mr. Spencer, look at your right hand.”

 

Shawn rolls his eyes and glances down at his hand. Blood stains his hand, covers the butt of the gun. The blood is bright red, painfully so, and Shawn drops the gun, letting it clatter on the ground. “Oh, God,” he says, his eyes transfixed on his hand. “Oh, God, I just– I just killed a– I just killed somebody.”

 

The chief takes another step forward, cupping the back of Shawn’s neck and pulling him close. Juliet tells another officer to bag Carp’s gun as evidence. “You did what you had to do, Shawn.”

 

Shawn shakes his head, pressing his nose into her shoulder. “No, no, doing what I had to do would mean just disarming Carp and  _ maybe _ shooting his leg or something if necessary. I– I killed him out of cold blood, Chief.” He chokes on a sob. “I just ignored everything my father ever taught me. I killed a man.”

 

Juliet walks up to him and rubs his arm. “Shawn, it– it just happened.”

 

Shawn lifts his left hand and rubs his nose. “No, Jules, you don’t– I  _ murdered _ someone. My– Dad told me– I didn’t–”

 

Chief Vick nods. “Your mother is on her way, Shawn.”

 

Shawn tries to pull away from the chief’s embrace, but she’s a lot stronger than she looks. “I don’t want her seeing me. I don’t want her to look at me like– like I’m a  _ murderer. _ That’s what I am, Chief. I just murdered someone.”

 

Karen shakes her head. “You didn’t murder him, Shawn. You were protecting yourself.”

 

“Chief, I promise you, I wasn’t –”

 

“No, Shawn.” Her voice is firm. “He pointed a gun at you. You were high on adrenaline. You made a call. It happens.”

 

“I deserve to go to jail.”

 

Juliet shakes her head. “No, Shawn, listen to me: Carp shot a cop. He was going to shoot you. He’s been part of many shady dealings. He deserved worse than jail.”

 

“I– I still killed him.”

 

Chief Vick sighs and rubs Shawn’s back. “Your dad is doing better. Chelsea’s still there, chattering his ear off. He wants to see you.”

 

Shawn sniffles, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick. “How do you know that?”

 

“Because I’m a mother, and if I was in your father’s position with a kid as impulsive as you, I would want to make sure you were safe. I’d want you by my side. And because between his son and a girl that he’s actually a little scared of, he would much rather spend time with you.”

 

“Even if he knew I was a murderer?”

 

“Even then, Shawn. That wouldn’t make him love you any less.”

 

Shawn laughs sadly. “You don’t know my dad.”

 

“And you don’t know him, either. Nothing could make him stop loving you. Now get your ass over to the hospital and tell him what happened yourself. I’ll talk to the DA about dropping the charges.”

 

*

 

Shawn chuckles to himself as he watches his mom berate Chelsea outside in the hall. Chelsea tries to argue that she’s Henry’s girlfriend now, but Maddy’s eyes flash, and she starts pulling out the “I was married to him for nearly twenty years, I think I know him better than you do” card.

 

He can still feel Jerry’s blood on his hand, however.

 

Someone gently knocks on Henry’s door, and Shawn looks up, expecting to have to send Woody away again. Lassiter waves shyly at him, puts his hands in his pockets, and rocks up on the balls of his feet. “O’Hara told me,” he finally says.

 

Shawn nods. “Ah.”

 

Lassie walks into the room and sits in the chair closest to both Shawn and the door. “You know, the first time I shot someone, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. The guy was guilty as sin…I watched him beat a tiny little kid to a pulp. And, yeah, I guess I was justified in shooting him, but…” Lassie shakes his head and rubs his nose. “In that precise moment when I pulled the trigger, I wasn’t doing it as a cop. I shot that man because I was so enraged at what he was doing. I murdered someone in cold blood, but no one stopped to think about it.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I had to go through four months of department-mandated therapy, and even still, I couldn’t sleep at night. My hand still shook when I would pick up my gun, and the chief thought about putting me on desk duty until I could get ahold of myself. I decided that the best course of action was going to the shooting range until I just saw everyone as a target. Not a person.” He sighs heavily. “I guess that’s why I pull out my gun more frequently and discharge my weapon more than any other officer. I made it so that I don’t see a person, I just see a black-and-white target with lines.”

 

Shawn narrows his eyes at him. “Do you still remember that guy?”

 

Lassie nods. “I still see him sometimes at night. I see the way that kid looked at me in pure fear right after it happened. Not thanks…no, the other officers got the thanks from him, but he was just scared of me.” Lassie closes his eyes and shudders. “There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t remember that.”

 

Shawn squeezes his dad’s hand. “My mom doesn’t blame me. In fact, she’s glad that I shot Carp. And…and if  _ someone _ had shot Carp, I think I would feel the same way, but it was  _ me, _ and I put three bullets in him.”

 

Lassie sighs. “Look, Shawn…it’s likely that one of us would have shot Carp if you hadn’t. We might have just done it in the manner of ‘hey, this civilian is endangered and we need to protect him,’ but we would have shot him nonetheless. You shot him out of cold blood, but still in self-defense.” He stands up. “You’re not going to ever forget that, but at least you still have your dad. He can help you even more with this.”

 

Shawn sighs. “I just…I wish I hadn’t done it, Lassie.”

 

Lassie smiles softly and tucks his hands back into his pockets. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr, @ my-glasses-are-dirty, and tell me what you think!


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